The Wonders of Physical Education
by phoenixdown7
Summary: UKxUS, FRANCE/CANADA, GREECE/JAPAN Arthur hates his life...and P.E. with that overgrown prat of a jock, Alfred, doesn't make it any easier...in other words: Arthur struggles with an inappropriate attraction to someone in a unitard


Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or its characters...they are all the property of Himaruya Hidekaz...and the world.

AN: This is my first Hetalia fic ever...and I have discovered that, while initially daunting, writing from Arthur's POV is one of the most cracktastic endeavors ever.

Thank you to blood_winged for your help with British slang. I think you'll notice I tried to pack as much Brit slang into this story as possible. For better or worse, but mostly for the LULZ worse.

**The Wonders of Physical Education**

"Bloody hell. Fuck my life," Arthur vehemently swore under his breath as he glared at his P.E. coach and his fellow classmates. No one on the receiving end, however, seemed to notice, and Francis, that _twat_,actually had the balls to _leer_ at him. Arthur's sour mood grew exponentially.

He was currently standing in the middle of the gym, wearing nothing but a green, spandex unitard – a piece of clothing which left utterly nothing to the imagination at the best of times. Although what was worse, all of his classmates were wearing them too. Including that bloody (heinously fit – his mind unhelpfully supplied) prat, Alfred. It should have been bloody illegal – and not because Arthur could barely keep his eyes off of Alfred's firm well-proportioned…no, it was because it was simply _indecent_. The way the American _flaunted_ himself in that skin-tight, navy-blue rayon was downright…_disgusting_ on so many levels.

Arthur glared for good measure at Alfred's backside as the American, obviously completely unaware that he should be embarrassed by his lack of proper attire, stood casually at the front of the crowd, one hand resting on his perfectly sculpted hip.

Mr. Edelstein's voice sliced through Arthur's ears like a knife, abruptly cutting off his focus as only a P.E. teacher's voice could. Arthur watched the eerily uptight man with growing horror and frustration as he described their plan for the day.

"In wrestling, a man learns how to be a man, and the bonds one creates on the battlefield," Mr. Edelstein gestured toward the sweat-stained wrestling mat that his assistant, Ludwig, was currently dragging to the middle of the floor. Arthur's formidable right eyebrow twitched as he imagined all the organisms that could be living on that thing. "Will never be broken. Wrestling is about perseverance and discipline. This is what you will all learn today."

Mr. Edelstein's gaze pierced the crowd of male students and his mouth set into a grim line that said very clearly he was not going to accept any objection to his words. All of the students remained tight-lipped, except for Francis, who was giggling behind his hand, but they were all used to this so Mr. Edelstein simply ignored him.

Most of the class seemed decidedly uncomfortable with the arrangements. Although Heracles seemed perfectly unruffled and a smiling Francis put an arm around Matthew's shoulders and whispered something into his ear. The poor lad blushed brilliantly and looked to be nearing his last rope – his legs shaking and eyes wide with fear as he stared down at the dirty mat. Alfred, the stupid tosser, actually looked excited – smiling and rubbing his hands together in glee as if he couldn't wait to jump onto that mat and roll around on it. The only person who seemed nearly as enthusiastic was Gilbert, who was currently cracking his knuckles and smirking. Arthur, for his part, just wanted to die…preferably quickly.

"Now for match assignments," Mr. Edelstein began crisply, nudging his glasses up the bridge of his nose and pulling out a list from his pocket. "The first match will be between Mr. Bonnefoy and Mr. Williams."

Francis looked like Christmas had come early as his arm tightened around Matthew's shoulders and the boy, in turn, looked like a confused mix between hopeful and terrified.

"The second match," Mr. Edelstein continued, sending Francis a stern look as he did so. "Is between Mr. Karpusi and Mr. Honda."

Kiku bowed his head as if accepting his fate. Arthur wouldn't be surprised if he tried to commit seppuku right after the match, but Heracles smiled at him warmly and the Japanese boy seemed to loosen up a bit.

"The third match is between Mr. Jones and Mr. Kirkland."

Arthur literally gaped like a fish out of water, suddenly all the air seemed to leave the room and it was hard for him to breathe properly. There was absolutely no way he was going to…with that idiot…not while wearing these…these _abominations_. Just thinking about rolling around on that mat with Alfred with barely nothing passable on was enough to make Arthur's cheeks flush…with _indignation_, of course.

Alfred, the complete idiot, actually gave an enthusiastic thumbs up, before looking back at Arthur and annoyingly chirping, "You're going down, old man!"

Spluttering with indignation, Arthur scavenged the atmosphere for just enough oxygen to retort, "I am _not_ an old man, you sodding git!"

"We'll see, _princess_!" The American replied breezily, obviously amused with himself as laughter bubbled into his voice.

"P-Princess?" Arthur repeated in outrage. "I'll show you who is a sodding _princess_, you overgrown welp!"

Alfred made a big show of yawning. "Is that a challenge?"

But despite his presentation of apathy, the American actually looked interested in Arthur's reply, his piercing blue eyes scanning Arthur's face, the grin on his lips deepening to something almost predatory.

Arthur gulped and shook his head, telling himself that the idea of Alfred looking predatory in any way was just preposterous. The bloke simply lacked the brain capacity necessary to appear calculating.

Arthur straightened himself, ignoring how the action made the ridiculous unitard tighten in unwanted places, and crossed his arms in an attempt to look commanding. "I swear on the Queen and Crown that I will have you begging for mercy."

Arthur ignored Francis's muffled, "That's not all he wants him to beg for!" and focused on Alfred's reaction. The American's grin broadened, his expression innocent enough, although Arthur couldn't fully shake away the feeling that he was somehow walking into some kind of trap.

"You're on!" Alfred exclaimed, pointing at Arthur for emphasis, before resting his hands on his hips and obviously attempting to mimic the man of steel with his pose.

Arthur shook his head, muttering to himself. "Sodding _jock_…thinks he's the bloody _hero_ of the school."

After all, American Football wasn't even a real sport…it was just Rugby for wankers.

But as the first match between Francis and Matthew started, Arthur's blessed confidence began to seep out of him like Francis's hormone-induced sweat. After all, wrestling was a very contact-heavy sport and Francis was all over Matthew like burnt on scones.

Mr. Edelstein didn't even bat an eyelash at the behavior, which was telling enough as to how completely normal it was considered in this so-called sport.

As he battled with his utter disgust at the sight, Arthur also struggled to keep disturbingly less disgusting images of his upcoming match with Alfred out of his mind, which wasn't very successful because Alfred was currently being very loud, trying to encourage his cousin, Matthew, to fight back. Honestly, it was as if the idiot was completely oblivious to the potential rape, with Francis as instigator, playing out before him.

When the match was over, Ludwig had to dutifully wipe off the mat with Clorox. Arthur was only mildly comforted as he was sure there were still ancient things living on that desecrated surface that could surely never die.

Kiku seemed to think this too, because he asked Mr. Edelstein if he could place his own mat on top of the mat, but Mr. Edelstein had to object, citing safety concerns. Kiku and Arthur actually shared a look – both of them clearly in agreement that whatever staph infection one could obtain from that mat was surely more dangerous than any accident incurred by the loss of friction between one mat and another.

But being the complacent fellow that he was, Kiku obediently got into position on the mat and faced off with his easy-going opponent.

And the torture resumed once again. Except this time, Kiku was making odd noises as Heracles all-but mounted him. It honestly read like a scene in a trashy romance novel that Francis had forced him to read when they were kids. It wouldn't have been so bad if Alfred wasn't watching the spectacle with something akin to enlightened discomfort, his former enthusiasm completely gone as he worked to fight off a blush of his own. While the match between Francis and Matthew was almost comical in its madness, Heracles was being surprisingly gentle with Kiku as they both struggled for dominance on the mat. Rather, Heracles was gently maintaining his dominance and Kiku was merely struggling. Arthur could have sworn Kiku actually moaned at one carefully placed leg Heracles sent between his thighs, and Arthur had to close his eyes and attempt to count sheep in his head. That usually worked when he was plagued with insomnia and couldn't sleep, he didn't see why it couldn't distract him from the disturbing thoughts that afflicted him now.

When the match was finally over (Heracles had won, of course), Arthur was left a complete wreck and he was only slightly pleased to note that Alfred didn't look nearly as cocky as he had done earlier.

Once again, Ludwig wiped the accursed mat with Clorox and Arthur struggled to keep his composure. He accidently caught Alfred's eye and noted that the American actually looked uncertain. They stared at each other, before looking away, Arthur just catching the bright flush on Alfred's cheeks as his own face traitorously heated up. Even after Ludwig was done, neither of them moved an inch toward the mat.

"Let the next match begin," Mr. Edelstein prompted, looking between the two as if he couldn't fathom what all the fuss was about.

"Oue! Go at it lover-boys!" Francis interjected, actually wolf-whistling as he held a still flustered Matthew close to his side.

Arthur glared at him, but given his nerves, his heart wasn't in it and it fell flat. He was actually seriously considering if it would be less of a blow to his reputation to just run away from the gym in a panic and never return, but before he could actually convert his plans into action, he was startled by a hand that landed softly on his shoulder. He looked up and to his left to encounter Alfred staring down at him, his usual grin a bit shaky but his blue eyes bright and encouraging.

"Are you ready to make me beg?"

It was almost a whisper and it nearly sent a shiver down Arthur's spine as it was spoken very near the shell of his ear. Arthur's breath hitched and he stared at Alfred, completely forgetting to glare or be in any way his usual belligerent self.

"A-Alfred…" he croaked out the name, barely in the right mind to say anything else.

Alfred merely grinned wider, wrapping a warm arm around Arthur's shoulders and steering his suddenly slack body toward the mat. He barely noticed the catcalls of his classmates as Alfred left him positioned on one side of the mat and Alfred took the side directly opposite.

They stared at each other before Alfred's grin turned into his usual self-confident smirk. "You'd better try to beat me, old man. I don't want this to be too easy!"

Arthur smirked back, the usual insult barely wounding him as he contemplated a subtle shift in their heretofore antagonistic relationship. "Don't count on any sort of victory, you overgrown welp. I _am_ going to make you beg."

Alfred smiled and then they were on each other, each of them struggling fiercely for dominance. Alfred managed to top first, his bigger body almost crushing Arthur's as the Englishman struggled to turn his face so it wasn't buried in that accursed mat of pathogens. Arthur struggled uselessly until he managed to push his rear up into Alfred's stomach, eliciting a soft 'Oof!', and he found just enough maneuvering space to turn over so that his back was now on the mat.

But he was still very much pinned. No matter how much he struggled, there was no way to free his legs from between the American's thighs. No matter how much Arthur twisted or pushed, Alfred remained perfectly rooted. All seemed to be lost until Arthur finally bucked up his hips in a last ditch effort, and the American gasped in surprise, his hot breath tickling Arthur's earlobe and sending warm, pleasurable shivers down and up his spine. Undeterred by the scandalously pleasant sensations, Arthur managed to use Alfred's sudden loss of strength to his advantage and he bucked his hips into the American's once again, tipping them both over until Arthur managed to roll on top and secure his thighs around Alfred's larger ones. He pulled Alfred's wrists over his head and pressed his full weight down upon the American's abdomen. Alfred gasped and then growled, struggling with less strength than he would normally have at his disposal.

Arthur could feel his smile of triumph widening. It would seem he had discovered something important - Alfred's Achilles heel, as it were.

Arthur rolled his hips a bit to test his new-found weapon. Alfred predictably moaned and Arthur smirked, his own mind going a bit fuzzy at the edges with that same delicious friction. He had no idea the self-proclaimed school hero and one of the most idiotically oblivious boys in the school, would turn out to be so _responsive_ - and it certainly bolstered his ego that he was the one to not only figure it out, but be able to wield the weapon accurately. Something warm and entirely pleasant bloomed in his chest at the thought, and he found himself suddenly more confident than he had been around the American in years. His usual self-conscious hostility be damned.

Alfred, appearing absolutely flustered with his current position and lack of strength – his hair uncharacteristically mussed and his glasses askew – was still ineffectually struggling as Arthur lowered his head to his ear.

Even though Arthur had tried to maintain an air of control, the voice carrying his command sounded irrevocably husky. "Beg."

"No way!" Alfred retorted, looking fiery and obstinate even though his eyes were noticeably glazed, his lips slightly parted as he took in quick, shallow breaths. In short, he looked positively ravishable, and Arthur had to deal with a significant tightening of the unitard near his nether regions at the sight.

Drunk with power, Arthur rolled his hips again, eliciting a semi-frustrated groan from his larger opponent. Arthur could feel the evidence of his efforts between them. The ridiculous unitards they were wearing could do nothing to guard any form of impropriety, and at this instant he was almost surprised by how much he didn't care. Hell, in his practically legless state, he might bloody well do the dirty deed right here on this treacherously germ-infested mat as all of his classmates watched.

But his newly discovered exhibitionist tendencies were not to bear fruit, for Mr. Edelstein had – just at that moment - miraculously acquired the ability to discern when something obscene was about to happen in his presence, and he prudently blew his whistle to stop the match.

Later on the P.E. teacher would give the _excuse _that his premature cessation of the match was really because Arthur and Alfred weren't following the rules of the sport as they pertained to the positions opponents could take on the mat, but Arthur knew that was a load of rubbish. Although he realized shortly after all the Alfred-induced haze had lifted from his usually very capable mind that he should probably be grateful for Mr. Edelstein's interference, given that the Englishman's brief foray into madness may well have led to Francis and the rest of his P.E. class having viable blackmail material against him for the rest of his life. It was already a tenuous situation as it was – and despite what he may have thought at the time, he really did value his reputation more than a good public shagging session with Alfred.

At least, this is what he thought until Alfred had him pinned up against the tiled walls in one of the locker room showers while their classmates were still changing and showering in the room around them. As Alfred left a trail of kisses from his jaw to his chest, Arthur supposed, perhaps a bit deliriously, that blackmail material probably wasn't that horrendous of a prospect.

Arthur sighed and finally gave up struggling in mock-displeasure entirely, tangling his fingers into Alfred's knotted, damp hair. Alfred only smiled back at him roguishly as if the lot of it was his plan all along, and kissed Arthur on the lips, his smile indenting perfectly against the planes of Arthur's own.

……………………………………………………………………………….

AN: And they both lived happily ever after…

Seriously, high school wrestling is one of the _gayest_ sports ever...have you seen the videos on Youtube? It's like bad porno with unitards. I'm of the opinion that it should be featured at least once in any fic where there is gayness to be had. ^___^

Thoughts? This is my first Hetalia fic...so be gentle, yeah?


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